Spa and Order
by Invisible Ranger
Summary: From my lost archives, in honor of the A-Team's anniversary! Murdock and Face have been through a lot of danger together. Now, how will Murdock deal with spending a whole afternoon with his BFF...at Face's favorite day spa? More Bromance fun; enjoy!


Spa and Order

by Invisible Ranger (HBF), 2009

Disclaimer: Face and Murdock and all their pals belong to SJC and Universal. I'm just borrowing them for a trim and a touch-up.

Dedicated: To all my amazing friends I've met since becoming a TAT fan.

"Face, where we goin'?"  
Murdock had started to whine again. He'd long since gotten bored singing along with Bananarama and the B-52s on the radio. It was like a little kid asking "Are we there yet?" over and over again, and yet somehow more irritating.  
Face didn't show his aggravation, but just kept his eyes on the road instead. "I told you, Murdock, it's a surprise. You know, like when you took me with you to Chuck E. Cheese on your birthday? That kind of surprise?" He winced at the very memory of being forced into the ball pit for playtime.  
"But we're not goin' to Chuck E. Cheese. You woulda told me first," pouted Murdock.  
"It's an even better surprise. You're gonna love it," said Face smoothly.  
"Disneyland?" The tall man's eyes sparkled, and he clasped his hands together in anticipation.  
Face groaned inwardly. "Nope, guess again."  
Murdock eyeballed the road signs. They were nowhere near Anaheim. "Okay, maybe not Disneyland, so maybe, um, Sea World? Ya know, I never got to hear the punch line of that joke that one sea lion was tellin' me about the octopus and the sea cucumber that go into a bar…"  
Face's Vette swung off the main avenue and onto a side street. Here the shops and homes were bigger, more elegant, and smelled of seven-figure incomes.  
"Beverly Hills, O Facial One?" interrupted Murdock, his aquatic friend temporarily forgotten. "Aren't the Membership Police still after you from your last soiree out here?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.  
"I'm sure they've forgotten all about the incident at the Beverly Bay Club, if that's what you're referring to," Face assured him, turning in his seat. "I mean, it's been a couple weeks, Murdock. Memories are short here. Plus we did get away in the end, and the only injury was a bruise to Fulbright's colossal ego, and…what? Why are you looking at me that way?"  
"I'm lookin' at you that way," began Murdock, "'cause you're tryin' to use me and my impeccable social standing to get into some swanky club again, and I don't wanna go." His pout reappeared. "When I want that, I go with the doc, not the Fugitive of the Month. And what about that gal you were all worked up about? The model? Ivanka, Ivana, somethin' like that? Didn't she wanna go?"  
Face turned the car onto a street that was even narrower, and more exclusive. "Oh, you mean Teodora. She, ah, had another engagement today. An unexpected photo shoot in Baja," he explained, not sounding convincing.  
"And you think I spend all day, on my behind, doin' nothing, Faceman? It's Woody Woodpecker afternoon on Channel 9, not to mention I had to leave Billy all by his lonesome. Why'd you drag me along?"  
The Vette slowed. "I had to 'drag you along,' as you so flatteringly put it, because I have an appointment for two. Now, will you just give it a chance? You might actually like it," said Face.  
Murdock folded his arms and tried to sink lower into the seat. "Usually when I hear that, I'm about to get a shot," he muttered.  
They came to a stop under a covered pavilion with a red carpet. A simple, scripted sign read _Le Galanterie_. By Appointment Only. A uniformed man appeared instantly to open the Vette's doors. The building itself was a small-scale French chateau with gilded fixtures, immaculately arranged flower beds, and a fountain. They might have been in Versailles instead of southern California.  
"This looks more fun than a barrel of orangutans," Murdock grumbled, still refusing to get out of the Vette. "Is this the one place Ashley Hemmings hasn't gotten blacklisted already?"  
Face straightened his paisley tie and smiled. "Ashley Hemmings, Murdock, has been permanently retired. Now, on the other hand, Chas Everett comes to Le Galanterie every month for some of the finer things in life."  
"Chas Everett? Never heard of him."  
"Of course you have," Face said with a brilliant smile. "Dashing, handsome, successful playwright and part-time wine critic? C'mon, Murdock, work with me here," he said between his lips.  
"And you need me to get in this place? Is that it?"  
"Well, every gentleman needs a…"  
"Servant?" spat Murdock. A harsh chuckle followed. "I'm supposed to be, what, your butler or somethin'?"  
"Murdock, the correct term is valet. Now, just let me do the talking, all right? I happen to like it here, and I don't want to get thrown out," he whispered as another man, this one wearing a beret and a bland smile, bounced over to them.  
"Ah, Monsieur Everett," the man beamed, air-kissing Face. "So good to see you. It has been too long."  
Face grinned. "Only a month, Abelard," he said, holding up the keys to the Vette. "I'm looking forward to that new Swiss treatment," he continued as an attendant appeared to park the car. Finally, Murdock got up from his seat and followed behind, looking thoroughly miserable.  
"I don't believe we've been introduced?" Abelard paused and offered a slightly limp hand to Murdock.  
"Ah, how rude of me. Mr. H.M. Murdock. He's my…"  
"Bodyguard," finished Murdock for him, affecting a growl like B.A.'s.  
"Bodyguard?" gasped Abelard.  
Face stepped smoothly in. "Well, you never know when a crazed fan of _Springtime in Sao Paolo_ might jump out of the azalea bushes wanting an autograph. I have to take necessary precautions in this crazy world we live in," he explained, shooting a look back at Murdock, who stuck out his tongue in response.  
Abelard sniffed. "He seems…how you say? Scruffy?"  
"Who's scruffy?" Murdock wondered under his breath. In contrast to Face's elegant beige three-piece suit, he wore the same rumpled T-shirt he'd worn yesterday, which read "Do Not Disturb (I'm Disturbed Enough Already)" along with his favorite beat-up sneakers and ball cap.  
"Ah, well, that's why I brought him, Abelard. He needs a makeover. He's just got the blue-collar look going because he was delivering breakfast to some underprivileged children this morning on my behalf," Face lied.  
"Oh, understood, Monsieur Everett," agreed Abelard. He held the door open for his guests, and they stepped into an elegant foyer larger than most people's homes. A chandelier with thousands of tiny lights cast light from above to add to the natural sunlight coming through stained-glass windows.  
"Faceman, what kinda place is this?" Murdock wondered aloud. "At first, I thought it might be like that place my second cousin Tammy Sue ended up working in just outside Dallas…"  
"Murdock, will you relax? This is a day spa, it's not a bordello. You're supposed to enjoy yourself here, not worry. It's a lot like Disneyland, if you think about it. Behind every door, a new and wondrous surprise," he said.  
Murdock's lips quirked. "I don't see Chip and Dale, do you?"  
Before Face could answer, a stunning blonde in a Marie Antoinette period gown arrived and curtsied. She held a silver platter with an assortment of tiny tea bag sachets. "Monsieur, which one today?"  
Face stared not so much at the selections before him but the woman's impressive decolletage. "Oh. Persimmon Oolong sounds delightful," he said with a smile.  
"And for you?" she asked, turning to Murdock.  
Murdock's eyes scanned the selection. Before Face or the Marie Antoinette lookalike could say anything, he'd popped one with the look of finely ground chocolate into his mouth and begun chewing. More out of politeness than anything, he swallowed and flashed a thumbs-up.  
"Your chocolates need a tad more sugar, muchacha."  
The woman looked utterly lost for a moment, but then smiled and beckoned the two men to follow. To Murdock, she offered, "Your hat and jacket, Monsieur?"  
"Yeah, bought 'em myself and everything," he said, beaming proudly.  
Face nudged his friend. "I think she's asking if she can take them."  
"Um, only if you give them back. I'm real partial to 'em," he agreed reluctantly as he removed his favorite accessories.  
"They'll be taken care of, and cleaned with great care. So," she offered Face, "what would you like first today?"  
"It's been a stressful week, so maybe a visit to Gisele and Henriette if they're available?"  
The woman giggled and blushed. "I'll let them know to prepare for you." She disappeared down one of the mirror-lined hallways.  
Face had been ignoring Murdock's frantic tugging for a minute or so when he finally turned around. "What is it? I'm begging you, Murdock, please don't get me thrown out of here…"  
"Few things, Faceman," said Murdock more tersely than usual. "I definitely owe you one for lyin' to me to get me into this posh place and makin' me miss out on Woody Woodpecker with Billy. Second, she better bring me back my stuff, or I'm gonna be really upset. Most importantly, though, we got bogies right behind us. Don't look."  
Face's heart beat faster. It wasn't the kind of thing Murdock would lie about just to upset him. He glanced over his shoulder quickly.  
Behind them, at the reception desk, stood the unmistakable figure of General Fulbright, along with an aide. They were chatting away with Abelard.  
"The nerve of that guy!" Face hissed. "What are the odds that he belongs to every single club as me?"  
"Maybe he's just got good taste," suggested Murdock. "And, Face, you got any good plans right now? Like maybe, run like hell?"  
"And miss my appointment? You gotta be kidding!" Face was appalled. "I'd have to wait an entire month. C'mon, there's got to be a place to hide in here…"  
They edged out of view of Fulbright, then took off as quickly as they dared.

Ten minutes later, Face peered out through a crack in the door. No Fulbright, no MPs. Good. He pushed the door open wider and whispered back to Murdock.  
"We're clear. They're probably in the sauna; the ol' Terror of Toledo always did enjoy that," he said, remembering with fondness that very room in the DMZ tennis club.  
There was no response, just a sad whimper from the changing stall.  
"Come on, Murdock, you can't spend all day in there. Henriette doesn't bite, I promise."  
The pilot emerged, his lean body bare save for the towel wrapped around his waist. "I really don't feel comfy leavin' all my stuff in there, Faceman."  
Face smiled and clapped a hand on Murdock's shoulder. "La Galanterie is as exclusive as exclusive gets. No one's going to bother your clothes. I mean, I left my eight-hundred-dollar Armani in there, didn't I?"  
"What about my shoes? Those are my favorites, and it always tears me up havin' to buy new ones," Murdock continued as if he hadn't heard.  
"Don't worry. You're more nervous than I am. This is a place to worry and check your cares at the door."  
Murdock frowned. "Don't forget that there's a psychotic general in this building who wants nothing more than to lock you up for the rest of your life."  
"Fulbright? C'mon, what are the odds of lightning striking twice in the same place?"  
A wicked grin appeared on the other's face. "Twenty bucks says it does, and you can't get outta here without getting' busted."  
"Twenty bucks?" scoffed Face. "Are you Hannibal now?"  
"Okay, make it a hundred. And if you lose, you gotta take me to Chuck E. Cheese three straight weeks," said Murdock, rocking back and forth on his bare feet.  
"Deal." They shook. "Right, I think the lovely Gisele has a table with my name on it."  
"Your name, or Chas Everett's, Faceman?"  
He sighed. "Either one. We'd better hurry, we're already two minutes late…"

"Just relax." Henriette kneaded away at Murdock's tight back. "You are so tense."  
"Actually, I always felt more like a teepee."  
"Teepee?" Intrigued, she kneaded a little harder.  
"Yeah, you know. Like the ones the Plains Indians had in _Range Rider_?"  
Face looked over from atop his table, where Gisele, a sprightly redhead, was working hot stones on his back. "She means 'tense' as in 'stressed,' Murdock, which I'm not in the least right now. Gisele, your fingers are simply amazing."  
Gisele smiled. "Thank you, Monsieur Everett."  
Murdock wanted to relax, but his muscles were as tight as a coiled spring. Henriette, perhaps tired of kneading fruitlessly, switched to a series of light karate-style chops all over. He had to admit, that did feel a lot better. Much better than the orderlies at the VA who usually handled him as they might a piece of particularly neurotic meat. He gazed at the original Monet painting on the wall and tried to let his frantic mind slow down.  
"So, Monsieur Murdock, I am told you are a bodyguard," offered Henriette.  
"Huh?" He must have been staring at the painted water lilies harder than he thought. Either that, or the masseuse's hands were finally starting to work their magic.  
"My bodyguard, in fact," interjected Face. "He's quite good at what he does."  
Henriette had resumed kneading Murdock's lower back. "You must be quite brave."  
'Brave' wasn't the word he would have chosen. It might have been just foolhardy, for him to let Face trick him into coming to a place like this. But he didn't want to spoil the atmosphere, at least not yet.  
"It's a tough job, but somebody's gotta do it," he said, imitating Dirty Harry. The masseuses both laughed and continued working.  
Maybe Face was right. Maybe there was something relaxing about this after all. Murdock let his thoughts, and his gaze, wander. Those lilies, the soft rays of sunlight streaming in from the windows, the sensual aromas of vanilla and jasmine…  
"HEY!"  
His eyes were huge as he grabbed for the towel that wasn't there. He settled for the largest of the hot rocks instead.  
"I'm sorry, Monsieur, it's a full-body massage. Have you never had one before?" said Henriette apologetically.  
A blush appeared on Murdock's cheeks. He accepted the towel she passed him. "No. I mean, it's just, you've got to warn a guy before you massage…ummm…"  
"We can just do certain areas if you like, or…Monsieur Everett? Since you have been here before, maybe you can explain?"  
Face's blue eyes blinked open. "Murdock, just lie down and let her finish, all right? She's a highly skilled professional."  
Henriette had opened a small vial labeled "Sandalwood Oil" and was dabbing at it just as Murdock snatched it from her hand and swallowed its amber contents. "Sure could use some upgrades on the goodies in this place," he mused to the astonished Henriette.  
"I…I will put in a word," she finally managed. "Shall we finish? The hour is almost over, and I know General Fulbright hates to be kept waiting…"  
"General Fulbright?" Face righted himself immediately, keeping his towel in place with one hand.  
"Oui, monsieur. He's waiting just outside," said Gisele.  
Fulbright and the aide, just beyond the stained glass, were smoking cigars and laughing at some private joke.  
"I can't believe this! What's a guy got to do to get some private time around here?" Face steamed, jumping up from the table and gesturing to Murdock.  
"But Monsieur Everett, I haven't finished!"  
"Change of plans. Our, uh, chakras aren't aligned properly. But I'm sure they will be next month. You were magnificent, as always," said Face, blowing her a kiss.

"I'm hot, Face."  
"You're supposed to be hot. We're in a sauna!" Face answered, exasperated, from behind the latest issue of _GQ_.  
Murdock paced nervously back and forth, drenched in sweat, hair plastered to his head. "And this is s'posed to be fun? I could have gone on Big Thunder Mountain about six times by now," he complained.  
"This is fun for me, Murdock. And it's also therapeutic, and very good for you. It gives you a chance to breathe." To demonstrate, he inhaled deeply at the humid air, then let it out in a rush.  
Murdock snorted. "I get enough therapy where I am, thank you very much."  
"But that's for your head. This is for your whole body. And besides, I always thought you said the shock therapy was a joke."  
The mad look flashed into Murdock's dark eyes. "It's a joke with a really strange punchline, Faceman." He stopped pacing for a moment and sat beside his friend on the cedar bench. "Anything I might like there?"  
Face reached for the stack of magazines. "They have _Time, The New Yorker, Esquire_. What's your pleasure?"  
"Any comics?"  
"Murdock, this is an exclusive establishment catering to the cream of society. What do you think?"  
"I think they oughtta get some better reading material. Who wants to read about fancy clothes when you're sweating like a racehorse?"  
Face, ignoring him, had picked up the plastic-wrapped _GQ_ once more.  
"So, if you don't mind my askin', Faceman, how's it goin' with your girl?"  
"Hmmm?"  
Murdock put a hand gently between the pages of the spread Face was currently viewing. "Teodora. You weren't bein' honest about that photo spread. I know you by now."  
"Okay, so maybe it was a video. I don't know, her schedule is so busy, and, well, she thinks I spend half my time jetting from London to Broadway." He didn't sound convincing.  
"Well, if she were here right now, what would you talk about?"  
"Huh?"  
"Girls like talking. You gotta be able to talk. All the nurses really seem to like it when I do."  
Face put down the magazine and leaned back, pensive. He put his arms behind his head. "Sunflowers," he said finally.  
"Sunflowers?"  
"Yeah. She loves them; she's even the spokesmodel for a perfume called 'Sunflowers.' They match her complexion so well."  
Murdock cupped his hands under his chin. "And what about after you were done talkin' about sunflowers?"  
Face swallowed. "Murdock, I don't really date her for the conversations, okay? I mean, her being from Brazil and all, there's a language barrier, and…"  
"And?"  
Before his answer, there was a knock on the door, and a familiar voice. "Anybody in there?"  
"Fulbright?" Face gasped. "I'm serious, either it's his lucky day or the unluckiest day I ever had." Glancing around frantically, his eyes fell on the spare towels by the sauna door. He grabbed one and threw another to Murdock.  
"Yeah, either that or he's gonna bust you."  
"Just follow me, and don't say a word…"  
Face opened the door cautiously, a blast of steam preceding him. He'd wrapped the terry towel around his head so only his eyes were visible. Murdock had done the same. Fulbright stopped and stared.  
"Don't I know you from someplace?"  
Face shook his obscured head. Murdock spoke instead.  
"It's the, um, new hyacinth oil treatment. Gotta keep it wrapped up real tight."  
"Oh. Well, how's the sauna today?"  
"Pretty hot."  
"Good to hear." Fulbright and his aide disappeared inside.  
Face pulled the towel off. He'd escaped, just barely, yet again. Murdock grinned.  
"Aren't you glad I didn't blow your cover, Chas?" he asked in the smug voice he'd used at the Beverly Bay Club.  
"Very funny."  
"So which, um, ride are we going on next?"  
"Murdock, are you familiar with waxing?"  
"Waxing. Like with fruits, or crayons?"  
Face shot back a look of playful malice. "Follow me."

"Hello, Monsieur Everett." The woman had the height and look of one of Odin's Valkyries, only with a soft, musical voice. "Just a touch-up today?"  
"Keirsten." He bowed and kissed her hand. "You know just how to keep me looking my best."  
She turned her gaze to Murdock, still damp from his hour in the sauna. "Who is your friend?"  
"I'd like you to meet H.M. Murdock."  
"What exactly do you do?" asked Murdock warily, thrusting out his hand, which she shook.  
Keirsten laughed. "I'm an aesthetician. My specialties are manicures, pedicures, and waxing."  
"Waxing like crayons?"  
She shared an amused glance with Face. "Just relax, and let me do the rest. I promise you won't be disappointed."  
Murdock already looked like he was going to be anyway.  
She led them over to two overstuffed chairs, each with a basin of hot, steaming water at its base. While Keirsten supervised and prepared, four of her helpers flitted about with laden trays. One began working on her client's feet while the other attended to his hands.  
Face, in a state of pure bliss, closed his eyes and sighed deeply. Murdock, meanwhile, winced as his manicurist rubbed lotion into his callused hands.  
"You know, next time we have a figh…I mean, a fine evening out on the town, Chas," he muttered, "I'm gonna think, 'Oh, what nice, silky soft hands my best buddy has.'"  
"Murdock, first of all, Le Galanterie is for gentlemen only, aside from the lovely ladies who pamper us," he explained, flashing his most charming smile to the young woman filing at his fingernails, "and there's nothing unmanly about having well-manicured hands and feet."  
"Do I get to have pink nail polish put on afterward?" Murdock asked sarcastically.  
"Only if you want to," offered his manicurist. "Usually we just put a natural protective coat on our gentlemen clients," she said in all seriousness.  
Keirsten came back over, a bowl of hot wax in her hands. "I'm ready now. Let's see, for you, Monsieur Everett, just a touch-up. Why don't you come with me, and I can work on your friend afterwards."  
"You're too kind." He smiled.  
"What's this deal about waxing? I mean, I've heard of waxing a surfboard, or waxed fruit, but what's the big secret?" Murdock asked with curiousity.  
The manicurists giggled. "We assumed you knew, being a friend of Monsieur Everett's."  
"Well, he doesn't tell me everything."  
One of the girls finally spoke up. "Body waxing."  
"Like, to give yourself a good shine? Fa…I mean, Chas already does that when he goes to the tanning beds."  
Face re-emerged from behind the hand-painted silk screen with Keirsten in tow. "Ah. Good as new. Murdock, your turn now."  
"My turn for what?" he whimpered as Keirsten gently took him by the shoulders.  
"Don't worry. It doesn't hurt," said Face.  
"Right this way, Monsieur Murdock…"  
Exactly three minutes later, an earsplitting screech could be heard from behind the screen, and probably all the way to Ventura Beach. Murdock tore around the corner, clinging to his towel for dear life, his chest partially coated with wax.  
"Do you have any idea what that woman…" he pointed one finger at a red-faced Keirsten, "was tryin' to do to me?"  
"I'm so sorry, Monsieur. I thought you were in for the deluxe treatment."  
"Deluxe? More like the torture treatment," cried Murdock into Face's shoulder.  
Ever the diplomat, Face held up his hand and winked at Keirsten, who looked ready to cry herself. "Don't worry about it. He got a little sunburned when we were skiing in Gstaad a few weeks ago, and he's still a little sensitive."  
"Oh. Perhaps just a touch-up?"  
Murdock sobbed on, letting Face stroke his hair gently.  
"Keirsten, you're wonderful. Maybe next time for him?"  
"Of course."  
"One more thing. You wouldn't by chance have seen a General Fulbright around, would you?"  
She tossed her hair to one side. "Well, he is my next appointment. Why do you ask, Monsieur Everett?"  
"No reason. C'mon, Murdock, let's go…"  
"Well, if there's one bright side to all this," said Murdock as they hurried away, "it's that I'm probably gonna get three gratis visits to Chuck E. Cheese."  
Face smirked. "Not yet. Now come on. I think I know the one place here Fulbright would never go."

"I told you, I don't need a haircut." Murdock pouted even as the stylist draped a plastic apron around his neck. He'd gotten changed back into his clothes, freshly cleaned, but still looked as mournful as he had while wearing just the towel.  
"Murdock, when was the last time you had a haircut anyplace where they didn't give you a lollipop or a balloon at the end?" Face, nattily dressed once again, asked from the chair next to him.  
He couldn't answer the question honestly, so he just sulked.  
Face's stylist was a pretty, petite brunette; Murdock's, a willowy blonde. She started running her fingers through his still-damp hair as she talked.  
"Such nice, masculine features. We need something that will accentuate that, and for this hairline…"  
"Um, couldn't I just get a trim on the back and sides?" Murdock protested weakly. He wished he had his cap brim to tug at, but they hadn't brought it back yet.  
"Something bold, daring, modern," continued the stylist, pulling out a comb and starting to work around Murdock's squirming.  
Face let the brunette work a lather into his hair, and watched with mild amusement. "Stop fidgeting, Murdock, and let her work, all right? Do you have any idea how much their services cost?" He picked up a New York _Times_ and buried his nose inside.  
"And you're sure Fulbright won't show up here? What makes you say that?" Murdock asked in between snips.  
"He always goes to the same barber, who happens to be on-base. One of his many weird quirks."  
"Oh. And the fact that I always go to the same barber doesn't matter to you?" he shot back.  
Face put down the paper and glared. "Your barber has an arcade machine and a carousel in the lobby."  
"That's why I like it there…"  
The stylist kept snipping all over; Face's didn't do much aside from trim, comb and finally blow-dry her client's hair. She finished by dusting and spritzing cologne on his neck.  
"That's just the way I like it, Cosette. Feels just about perfect. You're amazing."  
Cosette smiled. "Anything for you, Monsieur Everett."  
With one final snip, Murdock's stylist stepped back and turned to Face. "What do you think?"  
Murdock looked horrified. She'd trimmed his hair short all over into a more stylish, spiky style, made more so by an application of hair gel. He rubbed at what was left of it and moaned.  
"Ah, man, I look so weird! I haven't had my hair this short since 'Nam!"  
"You always did look a little weird. Now you look stylishly weird," said Face. "Actually, I kind of like it."  
"Billy won't even recognize me," lamented Murdock.  
"Is it to your satisfaction, Monsieur?"  
"No, it isn't!" cried Murdock, tossing aside the apron and shaking what was left of his hair, which wasn't much. "From the minute I walk in this place I get tortured and made to do things I don't wanna do, all in the name of looking good? I can't believe somebody's willing to pay a few hundred dollars for this kinda stuff. I'm goin' home." He headed for the door, grabbing his leather jacket on the way.  
"Don't mind him, he's, ah, still a little stressed out from our last Broadway premiere," explained Face hastily. Intercepting Murdock at the door, he dropped his voice low. "What's the matter with you? I behave like a perfect gentleman, and you're going to get me kicked out!"  
"I'm just sayin', Faceman, that there's certain things a man just can't take. Now, if you'll excuse me…"  
"Murdock, wait." Face pleaded. "Look, I'm sorry I brought you here. Teodora walked out on me, all right? She did after she found out who I really was. She didn't want anything to do with me. That's why I had to bring you. Because…" he forced himself to say it, "you stick with me through thick and thin, and you know I'd do the same thing for you. That's what friends do. Right?"  
"You mean that, Faceman?" Murdock was still skeptical.  
Face smiled and clapped his best friend on the shoulder. "Would I lie to you?"  
Murdock tried not to return the smile. "You have before."  
"Okay, then." Face looked thoughtful. "Because of unexpected duress, I promise to take you to Chuck E. Cheese next week."  
"Promise?" The childlike expression of glee returned to Murdock's features. "You'll even jump in the ball pit with me?"  
It was hard, but Face nodded. "Just remind me to wear the appropriate clothes next time, okay?"  
"Oh, Faceman, maybe one day you'll love it just as much as me."  
He doubted it, but he smiled nevertheless. "I think you've had enough beautifying for one day. Let's go get your hat, and then I'll drop you back at the VA, all right?"  
Murdock practically bounced out the door. "Maybe I'll be able to catch the end of the four o'clock Woody Woodpecker show," he sang.  
As they headed for the front door, Face groaned and rubbed his head. "Ah, no, I forgot my wallet. It's still in the changing room. Just wait for me, okay? I'll get that, and your hat, and we can go."  
"'Kay."  
Feeling fresh and energized, Face didn't look where he was going. He collided head-on with another guest in the hallway leading to the changing rooms, and both collided.  
"So sorry, I, uh…"  
"Peck!" bellowed Fulbright, still wearing a terry robe. "Stop right there!"  
He couldn't, so he took off at a run with the infuriated general in pursuit. Murdock stood in place as he caught up, jaw agape.  
"We're gonna have to make it quick," Face said as he sprinted past. "C'mon, it's Fulbright!"  
As the two men made a beeline for the exit, Abelard looked on, astonished. "Monsieur Everett, is there a problem?"  
"Just put it on my tab, Abelard. And thanks for a simply wonderful day," he puffed.  
"But, Monsieur…"  
Fulbright thundered into the lobby, looking like the bull that was his nickname. "All right, where is he?"  
Abelard cocked his head. "Who?"  
"Peck, that's who."  
"I don't know a Monsieur Peck. But Chas Everett and his bodyguard just left. Perhaps you are…"  
The Vette's tired squealed outside, and Face and Murdock were gone.  
"Chas Everett, Ashley Hemmings. Where does he come up with all these names?"  
"I don't know, Monsieur General Fulbright." Abelard soothed. "Maybe you could use a nice, long massage to calm your tired nerves…"

"Did we lose him?" Face asked for the third time, glancing in the rear view mirror.  
"I don't see any MP cars, so that would be a 'yes,' O Facial One." Murdock wore the same look as the cat who had eaten a canary.  
"Don't look at me like that. I don't owe you anything, because he didn't catch me."  
Murdock continued to smirk, and turned on the radio. "Not yet. There's still time. And somethin' tells me Chas Everett won't be goin' back to _Le Galanterie_ for a long while."  
"Maybe not," mused Face. "But W.E. Ryland-Harlowe, stockbroker to the stars, is overdue for a day at the spa."  
Distracted from his singing duet with Mick Jagger on the radio, Murdock paused. "I don't know about that, but Templeton Peck has a pressing engagement at Chuck E. Cheese next Thursday."  
"You're right. A promise is a promise." Face didn't like it, but he had to keep his word.  
Murdock sang at the top of his lungs, drawing the attention of several passengers in nearby cars. "You know, Face, I think I could learn to like the new me."  
"Why not? You're constantly reinventing yourself anyway." Not that he wasn't himself.  
The light turned green, and Murdock bobbed his close-cropped, hatless head in time to the music as the Vette started down Sunset Boulevard, back toward home.

_Fini_


End file.
